


song for a winter's night.

by porcelainsimplicity



Series: christmas stories [7]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Advent Challenge, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Christmas, M/M, Post-X3, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainsimplicity/pseuds/porcelainsimplicity
Summary: The lamp is burnin' low upon my table topThe snow is softly fallin'The air is still within the silence of my roomI hear your voice softly callin'If I could only have you nearTo breathe a sigh or twoI would be happy just to hold the hands I loveUpon this winter night with youor:  Bobby gets a Christmas card from John and realizes that it's probably too late.  Then a phone call changes everything.





	song for a winter's night.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so this year I decided to do an advent challenge. It's not part of anything official going on here at AO3. This is a list of prompts that I got elsewhere. I am going to thoroughly enjoy the hell out of this, however, because these prompts are awesome. All of the twenty-five fics that will be forthcoming will be in the X-Men movieverse fandom, though not all will be the same pairing. There is a ton of John/Bobby fics coming though. A TON.
> 
> The prompt for day four: A Christmas card arrives in the mail fifty years after it was sent.
> 
> Day four title song: Song for a Winter's Night by Sarah McLachlan (well, technically it was a Gordon Lightfoot song first, but I prefer Sarah's version. Also, this was chosen way more for its lyrics than for its title.)

It was nestled in between a flier full of coupons and a letter from the Salvation Army. He flipped it around in his hands for a moment, sure that he was making it up. But Bobby would recognize the scrawl on the front of the envelope until the end of time. He knew who had written it; he just didn't know how it was possible. 

He stared at it for awhile before glancing at the postmark, and his eyes widened when he saw that it was postmarked 2006. Fifty years. How had this envelope shown up fifty years after it had first been sent?

He swallowed hard as he slid his finger under the flap and opened it up, pulling out the card inside. He wasn't surprised to see the silly reindeer on the front of it, because John had always liked to give him silly cards, and he took a deep breath before opening it up. 

A piece of paper fell into his lap as he read the silly text inside, John's signature messily written at the bottom. He set the card on the table and reached for the paper, unsure if he really wanted to read what was written on it. But as he saw more of that familiar scrawl, he realized he really did. He wanted to know what John had said to him fifty years earlier, so he took a deep breath and began to read.

_I know that this is probably a card you didn't want. Fuck, I don't even know if you'll open it. But I had to send it. I had to let you know that I survived. Had to let you know that I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I know that you'll never believe it, but it's the truth._

_I have missed you every second of every day since I last saw you. And I last saw you on that plane, not on any of the battlefields we shared. Those weren't moments I want to remember. I want to remember other things, like the way you looked in the moonlight or how you always cooled the room down on a hot summer's day. I want to remember the feeling of your lips on mine. I want to remember how deeply in love with you I fell._

_I know that I ruined this beyond repair the moment I walked off that plane. I know that there's no way I'll ever be given forgiveness. I know that I don't deserve it. But I just had to try. I had to make an effort just so I could tell myself years from now that I did._

_If, for some reason, you ever want to speak to me again, please know that a phone call would be something I would cherish. I love you, Bobby. I never stopped and I never will._

Bobby ran his fingers over the number written at the bottom, taking a deep breath as John's words washed over him. He'd lived for the past fifty years under the assumption that John had died at Alcatraz. That he'd lost him for good on that day. That any hope he had that John could still be John and not Pyro had died along with him. And now here he was, fifty years later, with a card, a letter, and a phone number, knowing that it was probably too late.

Still he found himself reaching for his phone, typing the number into it. His thumb hovered over the call button for a moment before he pushed it, and he was prepared to apologize to whoever it was that answered the phone, ready to say it was a wrong number.

But the voice that answered it was the voice that still haunted his dreams. A little raspier, a little more weathered, but still that voice. Still Johnny.

“Hello?”

“John?”

Bobby could hear something hit the floor and break. “Bobby?”

Bobby couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. “Your card arrived today.”

John was silent for several moments. “Today?”

“I don't know why it took so long to get here, but it did,” Bobby said. “God, John, it's good to hear your voice.”

“It's good to hear your voice too,” John said, and Bobby could hear the emotion in it. “I can't believe I'm talking to you. I'd given up on this happening decades ago.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“The whole world does,” John said seriously. “Pyro died at Alcatraz.”

“But you didn't.”

“No, I didn't.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Just trying to survive,” John said softly. “Trying to be as mundane as possible.”

“That's not who you are, Johnny. You're far from mundane.”

John laughed. “Yeah, but when you need to blend in, mundane is the way to go. What about you? What have you been doing?”

“I, um, I run the school now, actually,” Bobby said, smiling. “It's nice.”

“That's great. You always were destined for that. So what about your wife? Any kids?”

Bobby swallowed hard. “I never married anyone.”

John was quiet for a moment. “Really?”

“I fell in love once in my life. Never saw a need to fall in love again.”

Bobby heard John curse under his breath. “I feel like I ruined your whole life.”

“No, you made it better. What about you? Wife, kids?”

“No,” John said after a moment. “It was always you.”

Bobby glanced over at the picture of the two of them together that sat on his desk before making a decision. “How far away from the mansion are you?”

“I'm in the city. Why?”

Bobby took a deep breath. “Want somewhere to spend Christmas?”

“Bobby,” John said, pausing. “Don't feel like you have to do this.”

“I don't,” Bobby said seriously. “I want to. I want to see you again. I need to know you're really alive.”

“Then tell me when to be there,” John said after a moment. “Because I'd really love to see you again too.”

“You're welcome any time. Just tell whoever greets you that you're here to see me.”

“Would coming today be too soon?”

Bobby smiled. “Johnny, you showing up here five minutes from now would be too long. If you can come today, come today.”

“I will then. I have nothing keeping me here.”

“Then I'll see you in a few hours.”

“Yeah, you will. God, Bobby, I can't believe this is happening.”

Bobby let out a small laugh. “Me either.”

They hung up the phone after that and Bobby had a hard time concentrating on the classes he was supposed to be teaching that afternoon. When the interruption came that someone was there to see him, Bobby dismissed his students and walked towards his office, taking a deep breath before opening the door. 

John was standing there, hair almost completely gray, skin marred by a few wrinkles. He was still wearing his trademark leather jacket and the familiar click of the opening and closing of his Zippo echoed throughout the room. He looked up after a moment and Bobby got a good look at the eyes he'd always loved, and he could see the happiness radiating out of them. He closed the door behind him and walked up to him, staring at him for a moment before throwing his arms around him. John's arms came to wrap around him a moment later and they stayed in that embrace for a long time. 

When they parted, Bobby could do nothing but smile. “Welcome home, Johnny.”

John swallowed hard. “Home?”

“This was always home.”

John just shook his head. “No, Bobby. You were home.”

Bobby couldn't get the smile off his face. “Maybe I still can be.”

John stared at him for a moment before a smile crossed his face. “A lot has changed.”

“It doesn't matter,” Bobby said. “None of that matters anymore. What matters is that you're right in front of me.”

“I still can't believe you called me,” John said, reaching out to touch him again. “You're real.”

“I'm real,” Bobby confirmed. “And so are you.”

John nodded and took a deep breath. “I didn't expect this to be so overwhelming.”

“Neither did I,” Bobby said. “But nothing with you is ever as expected.”

John laughed. “No, I suppose it's not.”

“Merry Christmas, Johnny.”

“Merry Christmas, Bobby.”

“I still love you.”

“I still love you too.”

Bobby grinned and John did the same, and then they were back in each other's arms and their lips pressed together. It was like the past fifty years hadn't happened, like it was just another sleepy Saturday morning when they were sixteen. The feeling had never changed. When they broke apart, Bobby reached for John's suitcase and picked it up. 

“Let's get you in a room. The one next to mine is open. I think that would be a good place for you.”

“You're sure about this?” John asked.

“I've never been more sure of anything in my life,” Bobby said, reaching for John's hand with his free one. “Come on. There's a lot I want to show you.”

John just smiled. “Okay then.”


End file.
